


but if you try sometimes (you get what you need)

by asmenuke



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, and then i got caught up in phichit and yuuri's friendship, my personal hell is my practice rink and so is yuuri's, phichit and yuuri are BEST FRIENDS FOREVER and you cannot take that from me, skating terminology, this started out as a romantic fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8971405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmenuke/pseuds/asmenuke
Summary: How Katsuki Yuuri found his groove for the first time with the help of his best friend, appeared far too often on Instagram, lost his groove, lost his breath, and got his groove and his breath back with the help of a new coach-turned-boyfriend. Also featuring hashtags, burgers, lots of skating terms, and Yuuri with a driver's license.





	1. bison burgers and red rock

**Author's Note:**

> so while I see a lot of people in this fandom apologizing for not knowing skating all that well, I'm a nationally ranked ice dancer (or at least I was a couple years ago, you'll pry my national ranking from my cold dead hands) and as such, skating terminology is second nature to me. if there is anything you didn't understand that I didn't explain in the notes, please feel free to ask!

Yuuri had been to Colorado Springs once, years ago, when he was still training under Celestino. It was summer, two weeks in early August, and their flight to the tiny Colorado Springs airport was redirected to Denver thanks to severe thunderstorms in the area. Celestino somehow still managed to wrangle a rental car, and he and Phichit huddled under the yellow Hertz awning as they watched the Italian jog through the light drizzle Denver was experiencing as night fell. 

“Google Maps says it’s going to be an hour and twenty-six minutes to our hotel in Colorado Springs,” Phichit said, crisply enunciating the amount of minutes their drive would take.

“Hm? Well, that’s unfortunate,” Yuuri replied absently, watching as Celestino’s brown ponytail grew darker as it got wet, “Do you think we’re going to get dinner, or is Ciao-Ciao going to make us skip it?”

“I… huh,” Phichit considered, “I don’t know. Do they have In-N-Out here?”

“That’s California, Phichit,” Yuuri giggled, and then the car pulled around, and they busied themselves packing up the trunk with their luggage while trying not to get wet. Somewhere between Denver and Colorado Springs, Celestino pulled off the highway to get them burgers from Carl’s Jr. 

“The amount of calories in these burgers is disgusting,” Celestino sighed, “But you need to eat, and as long as you don’t get the fries I suppose I can condone—“

“Yuuri! There’s a teriyaki burger! We have to try it!” Phichit interrupted giddily, and soon enough they were driving through the steady rain, Celestino watching his students with a small smile through the rear view mirror. 

_@phichit+chu: a small taste of home for our beloved @katsu-goner !! even though yuuri says that a teriyaki burger in no way counts as proper japanese food. #whatever #burgertime #mountains #lightning #KatsukiYuuri #ciaociaosrentalcar #gottatagthegloriousscenery  
location: I-25 S_

Colorado was an adventure, and nothing could bring Phichit or Yuuri down—not the pouring rain that they had to run through to get to the hotel, nor the long flight with all of its delays, nor the mask training Celestino insisted on them enduring before they booked their trip to Colorado.

“American Olympians train in Colorado Springs for a reason,” he had said, handing Phichit and Yuuri the same sort of sterile medical masks, the kind that Yuuri used to wear in Japan. Both had turned to each other and shrugged until Celestino had made them run through a short program each with the mask on. Breathing suddenly became… difficult, to say the least. 

“Ciao-Ciao is trying to kill us,” Phichit whispered, both of them hot and sweaty after training with the masks on. They flopped down on the snowy ice, the Zamboni warming up as the other skaters began to leave the ice, “It’s his diabolical plan, don’t you see? Freshly sharpened skates and the masks! Sabotage!”

“I just don’t think these masks are being used according to their intended purpose,” Yuuri wheezed, turning his head to look at a red-cheeked Phichit, "And I totally did not have my skates sharpened before coming here." 

There was snow in Phichit's glossy black hair, Yuuri noted, as the Thai skater looked at him with abject betrayal. 

"You didn't have your skates sharpened?" Phichit demanded, still out of breath, "Yuuri! You idiot! No wonder the loops in your footwork have been crap this week!" 

"I didn't want my first day in training camp to be getting used to a sharpening!" Yuuri panted, flinching when the Zamboni beeped. Phichit thankfully let the subject go they scrambled to get up and off the ice, with only one final word of warning--

"That's gonna bite you in the ass someday, Yuuri!"

The masks, though. _Those_ made sense. The training camp had an intense enough regimen before one took into account that Colorado Springs was a mile above sea level and had thinner oxygen. Phichit and Yuuri gazed at Celestino with wide-eyed betrayed looks each time they passed him on their warm up laps, trying to moderate their breathing in comparison to the rest of the Americans on the ice. The Italian had the gall to look amused, right up until Yuuri and Phichit leaned over the boards at the World Arena, trying to breathe deeply.

“Don’t be drama queens, you two,” Celestino said evenly, and two sets of dark eyes looked up at him. “Are you telling me that you won’t be able to handle two weeks of training here?”

It was if a switch was flipped. Yuuri took a gulp of air, swallowing hard. Whining and being overdramatic with Phichit was one thing, but disappointing one’s coach was another thing entirely. 

Celestino reached out, placing his hand on Yuuri’s hammering pulse. His green eyes took in his student’s flushed cheeks calculatingly, seemingly counting Yuuri’s heartbeats. Yuuri blushed even deeper, embarrassed somehow at being unable to control his heart rate. It was a failing, somehow, that he felt so out of shape while the rest of the Americans skated around the rink with ease. His chest was screaming for more air, for Yuuri to pant, but Yuuri shoved the impulse down. _Breathe normally,_ he thought, don’t let Ciao-Ciao see this weakness. _Don’t let him think you can’t do this. Don’t embarrass him in front of the other coaches. If the Americans from the East Coast can do this, so can you._

“You are here representing our skating club, and I know you two will make me proud,” Celestino went on. Yuuri tried to breathe as slowly as possible, sucking down the limited oxygen. 

Phichit pouted, but his cheeks were slowly looking less red, and he glanced over at Yuuri. Like always, Phichit seemed to be on the same page as Yuuri was. Yuuri felt his lips twitch in a suppressed smile.

“Now!” Celestino clapped his hands, “Back to your training. Yuuri, your form on your Bielmann needs work, so I want you to start with that. Phichit, you are already in the United States. There’s no need for more traveling on your backwards sit spin…”

_@phichit+chu: I want to know when we’re going to see the sights. @katsu-goner says watching me flop on the ice is a sight enough. #mybestfriendismean #KatsukiYuuri #makehimstop #selfieonice  
location: World Arena, Colorado Springs, CO_

The training camp in Colorado ended up being rather fun. Despite the physical exertion whipping the pair into shape, Phichit and Yuuri were nearly immediately adopted by a group of cheerful skaters from the mid-Atlantic who had the same amount of complaints about mask training and the thinner atmosphere. The motley group from up and down the I-95 corridor also came with their own coach; a loud, cheerful Scot who greeted Celestino with a rib-cracking hug before the Italian could even think about air-kissing him. The combined accents made following the conversation damn near impossible, but thankfully the girls that Duncan MacKenna brought along were happy to translate.

“See?” One of the girls giggled, smoothing down her black practice dress as she pulled out a rhinestone encrusted phone case, “If Duncan and Celestino are friends, this means we all have to be friends now if we’re going to be sharing board space. Phichit, smile!” 

Phichit, always delighted to be tagged, flashed a blindingly white grin and a peace sign. Yuuri, in the background, blushed as he took a gulp from his water bottle and privately thought it would be a miracle if his best friend didn’t end up with his own Swarovski phone case by the end of the camp. Extra company did improve practices, as it turned out that Duncan was a slave driver during power classes, which ended occasionally with his grimly determined students dragging Phichit and Yuuri behind them or vice versa in band exercises. Yuuri came out of it with a new respect for the girls in their expensive practice gear and their quilted board-bags. And of course, a new respect for all things shiny.

_@phichit+chu: new phone case!! thanks @gracicle for the rec, glad we match now! #swarovskis #crystals #shinythings #plshelpwithmycostumenextseason #iwantmoresparkles  
location: Broadmoor Skating Club_

“Yuuri, Phichit!” Celestino called at the close of the camp, startling the pair. Phichit, who was trying to get a good selfie as he stretched with his foot on Yuuri’s shoulder, lost his balance, and Yuuri narrowly avoided going down with him. The Scotsman at Celestino’s side didn’t even attempt to hide his snort. 

“Yes?” Yuuri asked politely, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Phichit bounced up next to him, trying to play it off as though his fall was nothing.

“Duncan and I are off to the Broadmoor Hotel for dinner,” Celestino explained, his green eyes twinkling, “And since it’s your last night in Colorado, I think you two deserve a treat.”

“We get to have dinner at the Broadmoor?” Phichit gasps, and Yuuri could practically see the dollar signs light up in his eyes as he imagined eating out at the fanciest resort in the area.

Instead, Celestino tossed Yuuri the keys to the rental car. Phichit caught them instead when they bounced off of Yuuri’s head.

“No,” Celestino said lightly, “You two are on your own tonight. Have fun, and please don’t total the car, Yuuri. I don’t want Phichit driving on his provisional license. Our flight’s at ten tomorrow, so be responsible! And keep your diet plan in mind!”

_@phichit+chu: @katsu-goner has his license and the keys!! Get ready for a wild night!! #KatsukiYuuri #pleasedontcrash #iwanttolive  
location: World Arena, Colorado Springs, CO_

“So what’s the plan?” Yuuri asked as Phichit fiddled with the radio in the rental car. The sun was low in the sky, but still bright and present in the early summer evening, and the rental car hummed pleasantly in the parking lot. Yuuri breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the clean rental car and tried to ignore the way it still felt as if he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“The plan is, we go get takeout food from somewhere, and then we drive through Garden of the Gods and watch the sunset and eat our hard-earned takeout,” Phichit answered easily, his eyes glued to his phone screen, “And you let me take all the photos of you for Instagram that I want!”

“I let you take photos of me for your Instagram anyways,” Yuuri replied dryly, “There are more tagged photos of me from your account than I even have on mine.”

“Listen,” Phichit tried to protest, but gave up halfway through, “Whatever. You’re going on my Insta, Katsuki Yuuri, and we’re going to get bison burgers.”

“Ciao-Ciao said that we should keep our diet plans in mind,” Yuuri pointed out.

“And I am!” Phichit chirped, “I’m going to think about my diet plan as I sink my teeth into a giant overloaded bison burger with bacon and nice, crispy fries.”

Yuuri sighed, hopelessly amused by Phichit’s response. With the ease of practice driving himself and Phichit home, he put the rental car into reverse. 

“Phichit, can you hand me my sunglasses?” he asked, fully expecting the excited whoop the other skater made in response. Unlike his normal glasses, which had been purchased in Japan with only Yuuri’s own taste in mind, Phichit had been along for the purchase of Yuuri’s new prescription sunglasses. The result was a pair of very stylish Ray-Bans that embarrassed Yuuri each time he put them on and caused Phichit to grin like an idiot. 

“Whooo, sexy!” Phichit called as Yuuri pulled out of the parking lot, Colorado Springs stretched out before them at the top of the hill for one shining moment in the golden evening and Cheyenne Mountain at their back. Yuuri’s thumb rubbed over the tiny dial on the steering wheel, and the sound of the Killers burst through the speakers. Phichit laughed as Yuuri guided the car down the hill, and for a brief moment, the older skater allowed himself to shut his eyes, grateful beyond measure for his friend. 

“Yuuri! I love this song! Let’s do car karaoke!”

…Okay. Gratefulness over.

_@phichit+chu posted a video!_  
_@phichit+chu: whip that hair, yuuri!! dislodge those sunglasses!! get into the music!! think about vic—oh, whoops, the light’s green, kiddo. @katsu-goner #KatsukiYuuri #carkaraoke #bffjamz #areyougonnabemyboy #pronounsareforsuckers  
location: Colorado Springs, CO_

In short order, and thankfully without any fender benders, Yuuri and Phichit acquired their takeout burgers, windows down as the practical sedan sped down the highway across town. 

“Do you think Ciao Ciao will be upset when the rental car smells like bison burgers and steak fries tomorrow morning?” Yuuri pondered.

“We’ll leave the windows open a crack, it’ll be fine,” Phichit shrugged, “He won’t know a thing. We’ll get him a couple shots of espresso at the airport and he won’t realize I got a turtle mocha until it’s too late.”

“I don’t know how you can stomach that,” Yuuri groaned as he pulled into Garden of the Gods and peered at the map outside the car, “It’s too sweet!”

“You forget that I am a teenager,” Phichit said sagely, “My taste in coffee is terrible.”

Yuuri sighed, following the signs to a scenic lookout. The sun was setting, the red rocks at their peak saturation. The skaters exited the car quietly, hunger trumping any more Instagram posts. They settled themselves on the warm hood of the rental car, Yuuri sitting cross-legged while Phichit let his legs dangle over the headlights. 

“Phichit?” Yuuri asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the distant chatter of other Americans and the summer breeze blowing between the rock formations, “Do you ever… Well. It’s stupid. Never mind.”

 _“Yuuri,”_ Phichit said, and it was a testament to their friendship that he only had to say his friend’s name before Yuuri spoke once more.

“Phichit, have you ever thought about life after skating?” Yuuri spat out. He didn’t look at Phichit. The burger was held in his motionless hands, cheese oozing out the sides.

“No,” Phichit replied after a long pause, “Not really. What kind of life is there outside of a rink?”

“Love?” Yuuri said quietly, and Phichit snorted. When Yuuri whipped his head around, scandalized and a little embarrassed, Phichit threw a fry at him.

“Hey!” 

“Yuuri, don’t be silly!” Phichit laughed, “Listen. We’ve been friends for how long, now? I like to think I know you pretty well. Yuuri, put your giant crush on Viktor away for a second while I figure out how to phrase this in English. I’ll give you a minute, actually, since it’s so big I think it can be seen from space.”

Yuuri huffed, but took the minute to steal one of Phichit’s fries in return.

“Okay, my crush on Viktor Nikiforov has been put away. What now?” he huffed. Phichit stole one of Yuuri’s fries in return; a tiny, crispy potato that made a satisfying crunch when Phichit bit down.

“Yuuri, do you think you could possibly have a future with someone who doesn’t love skating just as much as you do?” Phichit asked, his serious expression a strange contrast to the crunching of the fry. “This is life outside of the rink. This is it. Look at it, Yuuri.”

He gestured expansively to the sunset, the rocks glowing deep oranges and reds.

“It’s very beautiful. It’s lovely. I have like, fifty photos that are going to go up on Insta when I’m done my burger. This is so amazing and I’m glad I get to experience it! But Yuuri… what will you do when the sun has set?”

“Stare at the night sky?”

“For how long?” Phichit pressed, “I’m so tired, Yuuri, I really am. After this, I kind of want to go back to our hotel room and crash. But Yuuri, you and I… we’re here for a reason. We’ve built our lives around skating. And I know that you and I both don’t know what we would do without a rink at our fingertips. You should plan on having a life that includes the ice. Because yeah, the world outside a rink is beautiful, and every skater should have that view. But I think… I think life after skating for us wouldn’t be much of a life.”

Yuuri was silent for a moment. But after the pause, he leaned over, resting his head on Phichit’s shoulder. The Thai skater pressed a chaste kiss into his hair.

“You’re my best friend for a reason, Phichit,” Yuuri said softly, “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“Same,” Phichit replied in just as gentle a tone, “So am I.”

_@phichit+chu: sometimes a burger, a sunset, and your bestie are all you need. here’s yuuri in the sunset on top of the hood of ciao-ciao’s rental car with that adorable grin that’s gonna have someone in love with him someday soon. no hashtags necessary.  
location: Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs, CO._


	2. worth more than diamonds, more than gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor Nikiforov makes an appearance. So do some cute nicknames. And some more indie music.

Yuuri hadn’t thought about the trip to Colorado Springs in years, but he sure as hell was thinking about it now.

“Yuuri, again!” Viktor yelled across the rink, “We’re not leaving this rink until you run through the second half of your free cleanly!”

The quality of the training was just about the same as it was during the camp. A ridiculous amount of off-ice training to keep Yuuri in shape, exercises to keep his footwork sharp and fast, and of course the usual jump and spin regimen. There were some days that Yuuri would have preferred to lie down on the ice and let the Zamboni run him over than continue. 

(Takeshi, who drove the Zamboni, probably would have done it too if Yuuri asked nicely enough. It was a small consolation.)

In addition to the hellish training regimen, to say that Viktor wasn’t exactly a great coach at first was an understatement. The "endearment" of "little piggy" still echoed in his ears. Ciao-Ciao had made them rice balls at least once a week, in the full-fat Italian style, which brought no small pang of bitterness to think about when he watched Viktor devour katsudon on the regular.

But even with all of the complaints, Yuuri wouldn’t choose to be anywhere but in Hasetsu with Viktor. He watched, absently tracing loops into the ice as he waited for Viktor to cue up his music from the second half of the program.

“Sorry, Yuuri!” Viktor called cheerfully from the boards, “Chris just texted, and I need to reply!”

“Okay, Viktor!” Yuuri called back, sighing slightly. He watched as Viktor giggled at whatever he was sending back before finally, the familiar piano of _Yuri On Ice_ began again. He waited, counting the beats and skating slowly to where he would pick up the routine once more. 

His cue came, and Yuuri sprang into motion, pushing off and gliding easily into his step sequence. From there, the program came cleanly—concentration driving Yuuri’s jumps in his second half, right up to a nearly-flawless quad flip. He could hear Viktor yelling over the music, his hand slamming enthusiastically onto the boards. 

“ _Davai, davai,_ Yuuri!” Viktor yelled, “Keep that spin centered!”

It was times like this that Yuuri wished he could flip Viktor off during his spin and have it actually be seen, considering how ridiculously hard it was to center a spin while you were already in the process of spinning. But then again, if anyone could do it, it was Viktor. 

Or maybe Viktor was just full of shit. _The world may never know,_ Yuuri thought to himself as he struck his final pose, panting lightly. 

“Good, Yuuri,” Viktor called, “Take three laps around the rink.”

Yuuri nodded, seeing no need to waste his oxygen on speaking when there was nothing else to say to Viktor. Even the one syllable of “hai,” or “da,” or “yes,” was too much. The first lap around the rink was not a lap for thinking; simply for breathing. On lap two, Yuuri absently reflected on how much he could go for a cup of tea. Maybe some ginseng? Matcha? Lap three, he cut off around the edge of the rink, gliding effortlessly to come to a stop in front of Viktor, who was staring at his cell phone.

“Vik—“

“Get in position.”

“What?” Yuuri gaped.

“Get in position,” Viktor repeated, looking up from his phone with the tiniest of smiles tugging at his lips, “You’re doing a full run-through. Show me that lovely stamina, hm?”

Yuuri moaned slightly, running his hand through his hair. Viktor’s eyes seemed to flicker for a moment before he looked away, turning back to the speaker system.

“When I hit play, I expect you to be in position and waiting for your music, Yuuri! Don’t keep me waiting!” his coach trilled, and Yuuri could practically see the innocent smile on his lips.

Yuuri complied. He might have been out of breath, but the idea of disappointing Viktor was more than enough incentive to go for another run through. 

This time, the program didn’t run as smoothly. Yuuri tried to focus as best he could, but the jumps were not as clean as usual, and his quad toe-loop became a triple. He could hear Viktor smacking the boards again, yelling something in Russian that Yuuri couldn’t expand the brainpower to translate. He touched down on his quadruple salchow and tried not to groan as he went into the spin that, mercifully, was centered.

That was the only bright spot, because when he finished, Viktor was clutching the boards and looking highly irked.

“Quad salchow,” he growled, making the jump sound more like the worst curse you could call someone, “I want to see it, then three laps.”

Yuuri took one look at Viktor’s frustrated face and sighed, then turned away to build up speed for the jump in question. Forward entry, clean three-turn, and—

Ah. _There we go._

Yuuri let out a sigh of relief on landing the jump, looking immediately towards Viktor. He gave a nod, gesturing for Yuuri to take his laps. On the first lap, Viktor stuck out his hand for a high five. Yuuri didn’t take it.

On the second lap, seeing Viktor’s big blue puppy dog eyes, he did. 

“You’re such a dork,” Yuuri said breathlessly as he glided to a stop in front of Viktor, “Honestly. Did Yakov ever do that? High five you guys?”

“No,” Viktor replied, giggling a little, “But I high-fived him a lot. That counts, right, Yuuri?”

“Sure,” Yuuri snorted, “Sure, we’ll say it counted.”

He let his head tilt to the side, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes for a moment. The ghost of a touch on his neck made Yuuri startle, blinking as he saw Viktor pull his hand back and bite off the leather gloves he wore. The older man didn’t look at him until the glove was off.

“Hold that thought,” he said softly, and Yuuri stayed still, head still tilted to expose his neck. Viktor’s hand moved confidently, cool fingers resting on the pulse point of Yuuri’s warm neck. Yuuri, barely breathing, tilted his head back to its normal position, but still Viktor didn’t move his hand. Instead, he leaned closer—silver fringe brushing over his eyes, close enough that Yuuri could see the startling black of his eyelashes. 

“Remember to breathe, _Yura,_ ” Viktor breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, “Your pulse is roaring like a jet plane.”

The silence seemed to stretch a moment too long, Yuuri feeling somehow like a butterfly pinned to a cork board as he and Viktor stared at each other.

“A-always with the airplane metaphors,” Yuuri managed to snark, doing a backwards swizzle away from Viktor’s hand as the Russian’s eyes dipped downward—to his lips? It couldn’t be. Yuuri pressed his own cold hands to his cheeks, feeling their heat against his frigid fingertips. Viktor looked somehow disappointed, his hand outstretched for the barest moment. 

“First Aeroflot, now this?” Yuuri tried, laughing a bit nervously.

“Ah, yes,” Viktor finally murmured, letting his hand fall, “Always keeping me waiting, Aeroflot.” 

The Russian forced a smile, meeting Yuuri’s eyes before he slung his coat over his arm and picked up his phone once again. The screen lit up, displaying the profile of one _@christophe_gc_. Viktor frowned, tapping back through the screen before reaching Instagram’s home page. He closed the app, then looked back up at Yuuri with that same slight smile.

“Take a break,” he encouraged, “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Get warm, hm? Or, you know...”

Yuuri didn’t know, but nodded encouragingly as Viktor stepped out of the boards the back way and walked towards the doors of the Ice Castle. Yuuri stayed on the ice, watching as he left. The summer sun of Hasetsu seemed brutal when compared to the refreshing air of the rink. Yuuri grabbed his phone and his dirty guards, tapping them against the boards before doing a series of lazy grapevines towards the other side of the rink, where the exit was still open. It took several tries to open his phone with his frigid fingers, scrolling through the notifications. 

_@phichit+chu tagged you in a video!_

Yuuko waved enthusiastically from the front desk, on the phone with someone but still enthusiastic. She fumbled for her own cell phone with one hand while still holding the desk phone up to her ear

“Excuse me for a moment, ma’am—“ she said, “Yuuri! The video your friend posted was so _cute!_ Have you seen it?”

“Oh no,” Yuuri grimaced, “Not yet.”

“Check it!” Yuuko beamed, before returning to her phone call. The heat of the lobby was a welcome change for his stiff hands, while sweat began to bead on Yuuri’s neck. One of the girls back in Ann Arbor used to joke that she herself was creating condensation when she came out of the rink, like a water bottle beading up in the sudden warmth. At this moment, Yuuri thought she might have a point.

_@phichit+chu: according to FB it’s the second anniversary of what is probably the best program @katsu-goner has ever done. here’s his step sequence because DAMN SON. tell @v-nikiforov to work on a duet with you! #KatsukiYuuri #exhibition #bleachers #iwannagetbetter_

Oh, this was so much worse than Phichit’s last birthday post. 

…Alright, in his defense, at least Phichit posted the best part of the program, Yuuri thought, the step sequence he had crafted was truly the best part of the entire program. But the entire program was a joke. Yuuri sighed, watching the small figure of twenty one-year-old Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s ace, dancing across the screen as the chorus to the song swelled. He had a smile on his face, laughing as he heard Phichit cheer as he executed a perfect bracket sequence into a couple chocktaws. 

The program was invented one day when Celestino unexpectedly took ill, ostensibly thanks to some undercooked arancini that still had some uncooked egg in them. Consequently, Phichit and Yuuri were left with a relatively empty rink for about seven hours, and hurried instructions to practice, but not too heavily, lest they hurt themselves before Celestino came back. 

Phichit, naturally, decided that there was no better time than the present to create exhibition programs. 

“You’ll choreograph mine and I’ll choreograph yours!” He had teased, “We can pick each others songs and everything!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Yuuri remembered saying, “I’m a bit worried about what you’ll pick.”

“Just think,” Phichit teased, “You can have your own revenge.”

Yuuri, expecting that he needed revenge, had choreographed a program to Bomba Estereo’s “Soy Yo” for Phichit, complete with a lot of poses and silly footwork that would make his best friend smile. 

Phichit, hitting accidentally hard, choreographed a surprisingly sincere program to Bleachers “I Wanna Get Better.” 

That was the refrain that was echoing through Yuuri’s head when Viktor burst through the doors.

“Yuu-riiiiii!” He trilled, blue eyes wide and a heart-shaped smile on his face, “I saw your program! Or what your friend Phichit posted of it! You’re so cute! You looked like you were having so much fun! Christophe said there’s nothing else on the internet of this; why is that? Wasn’t it an exhibition skate? Where did you perform it? Can I see more?”

The sudden onslaught startled Yuuri into a brief moment of silence before he laughed slightly, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his head. 

“It was a joke,” he explained, “I mean, sort of? Ciao-Ciao was sick, and Phichit and I got bored, so we choreographed exhibition skates for each other. Kind of like, ah, dance programs? We didn’t use many big jumps, just a lot of spins and some doubles. Can’t sprain an ankle on your day off, you know?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Viktor said seriously, as though he too had heard this refrain countless times before from Yakov, “Why don’t we choreograph one? Phichit tagged me in the video too!”

Yuuri did a double-take, realizing that yes, _@v-nikiforov_ was indeed tagged in the post. Worse, _@v-nikiforov_ had _liked_ the post.

Worse still, _@v-nikiforov_ had _commented._

_@v-nikiforov: [heart-eyes emoji] yuuri was so small! but still just as cute!!!! what a great idea!!! )))))_

Come to think of it, that comment was probably why Yuuri had eleven unread messages from Phichit. 

Whoops.

Yet.

Drawing on a source of confidence Yuuri didn’t quite know he had, he stood and met Viktor’s eyes.

“Only if it’s a duet,” he said sweetly, “I’ve been thinking about doing something fun.”

There was a clatter from across the lobby, and Viktor and Yuuri both turned to see Yuuko struggling to retrieve the lobby phone that she had dropped. She popped up after a moment, face red and trying to reassure the person on the other end of the phone. Viktor’s eyes seemed impossibly blue to Yuuri, but then he smiled once more as though nothing amiss had happened.

“Really? You want to skate a duet with me?” he gasped, as though that wasn’t one of Yuuri’s tightly held dreams since the tender age of eight, “Yura! That’s so creative! To what song?”

“That’s a surprise,” Yuuri said with a tiny smile, “But it can go up on Instagram later. I promise.”

Viktor beamed, the heart shaped smile widening to the point where his blue eyes crinkled up in pure happiness.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Yura! Don’t keep me waiting!”

“Why do you keep calling me Yura?” Yuuri asked curiously, a little confused when Viktor turned pink. He pushed the silver fringe out of his eyes, smiling the patented Nikiforov smile at Yuuri. Yuuri raised an eyebrow, unimpressed after several months of being on the receiving end of a smile that could be turned on like a light switch. 

“No,” he said sternly, “That’s not going to work on me. You can’t charm your way out of it, Viktor.”

“…it’s a nickname,” Viktor finally said, “In Russian. I call little Plisetsky Yura or Yuratchka. Mila Babicheva used to call him Yurka, or at least she did when I was still at the rink in Moscow, you know?”

“I think he’ll be upset that I stole his nickname,” Yuuri said gingerly, what he could do that _wouldn’t_ upset the temperamental blond.

“It’ll be our little secret then, won’t it, Yura?” Viktor teased gently, nudging Yuuri towards the rink. “Let me get my skates on. Warm back up, and play that music for me, won’t you?”

Yuuri laughed, taking his guards off and leaving them by the side of the boards. Viktor practically skipped over to his skate bag, eagerly reaching for his own black skates and looking up to toss Yuuri a bright, excited smile.

“Go!”

Yuuri shook his head, amused, and skated over to the sound system. He plugged his phone into the sound system, waiting for the static to dissipate before scrolling through his phone. 

Yuuri pressed play and smiled.

_@katsu-goner: @phichit+chu you were right. duets ARE a lot of fun! check viktor’s insta for a few more takes! s/o to best duet partner @v-nikiforov and his looooooong legs. you’re not just in it for the #CheapThrills <3\. #Sia #SeanPaul #ViktorNikiforov #whatstrangetagsihave_

Somewhere in Thailand, Yuuri knew his best friend was screaming with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, they're doing a duet to cheap thrills. don't tell me you wouldn't kill for that. think of the swings! the partnering! Yuuri ducking between Viktor's legs!
> 
> this chapter brought to u by: “clean up” by towkio feat. chance the rapper. if I wasn’t choreographing a step sequence to this, this chapter wouldn’t exist.
> 
> skating notes:  
> \--Yuuri skating in fingerless gloves baffles me, but I skate at one of the coldest rinks on the Eastern Seaboard (yes, the entirety of it, I have receipts) so maybe Ice Castle is warmer.  
> \--grapevines. GRAPEVINES. my favorite thing, which according to YouTube, is a hockey thing? which explains the surprise, but hey, cross-discipline coaching isn't new. look up "how to do a grapevine" on YT, it's actually quite nice.
> 
> third part coming probably after midterms, because a girl's gotta graduate this year, yo.

**Author's Note:**

> things I have never seen in fic and thus am explaining:  
> \--mask training: hardcore training used at serious business training rinks that involves putting a medical mask over one's face to restrict oxygen during run-throughs of your program or other training exercises. typically used in US rinks OUTSIDE of Colorado Springs, because they get their own hardcore training at that f***ing altitude.  
> \--band exercises: you loop a band around someone's waist, set your feet into a snowplow stop, and make them run down the length of the rink dragging you, probably a 150+ pound weight, across the ice. highly unpleasant. used in power classes and on-ice strength training.  
> \--board bags: a nice way to keep all your crap organized at the side of the rink. usually contains tissues, your skate guards, your phone, earbuds, spare pair of gloves, chapstick... you get the picture. typically only used by girls, but hey, we've got our shit together. 
> 
> fixed Phichit's insta handle! But I like puns, so Yuuri's handle is staying as @katsu-goner since I think Yuuri would definitely self-identify as a goner. let me know if I've accidentally made a terrible gaffe in Japanese. I don't speak it AT ALL.
> 
> I PROMISE Viktor will be in the next part! I would not dare tag for a relationship and then not... have... the relationship... except in this chapter... haaa...


End file.
